


Long Fall

by Rayne11



Series: Candlefire [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, cw: suicidal thoughts, post a dream of spring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28675227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayne11/pseuds/Rayne11
Summary: CW: suicidal thoughtsTyrion has faced battles enough to last several lifetimes but his war with himself seems never-ending. Why is it so hard to not turn away happiness when it knocks on his door?
Relationships: (past relationship), Tyrion Lannister/Penny (ASoIaF), Tyrion Lannister/Sansa Stark, Tyrion Lannister/Shae
Series: Candlefire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087946
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	Long Fall

**Author's Note:**

> CW: suicidal thoughts. 
> 
> I'm adding it here too just in case anyone missed it in the tags.
> 
> Take care.  
> Thank you for reading

Once you've lived a life like mine, death isn't something to be afraid of. It's an old friend you've never met. You've seen him, you've heard him - in the rustle of the wind at night, and the screams of the men at war - but never met him. 

It's an old friend taking pity on you. "Come here, dear. I can't see you go on like this," he says.

What comes after, who knows? Who cares? 

Sadly, I do. I pretend like I don't but I do. I'd much rather see my friend at the age of eighty with my belly full of wine -- but he'd be a friend nonetheless. 

I no longer sleep on white sheets. I have them dyed. Green, blue, yellow -- not red. Never red.

Penny likes purple. And pink. Expensive taste. 

People who love pink and purple are never satisfied with a few pink or purple things. Everything they own needs to be these colours. They'd dye their souls if they could. 

I don't think I love anything anymore. Nothing as trivial as colours anyway. Maybe I love to live, even if that means nothing anymore. Maybe that's why I'm still here. 

Just breathe. Love it, don't love it, just breathe. Not much too it really. Once you breathe, everything else will take care of itself. 

_Seven help me_ , I think as I make my way up the steps to Penny's garden. 

It's right next to Myrcella's garden but I can no longer call enter it without killing something inside. It hurts too much. 

The others were destroyed in the battle, it's the only garden here now, except for the Godswood. But I fear I've given up on the gods now. 

The heavy wooden door opens to the terrace beyond which lies the lawn. 

The corridor is lined with giant clay pots containing larger palm trees. 

Funny how some parts remain as they are even after years and years of fire and war. 

It is almost noon but the clouds are kind. Ocean breeze flows brazenly knocking flowers off branches, decorating the ground. 

I spot Penny by the banyan tree. She's staring intently at a dandelion, petting it with a finger. 

All her concentration is focused on that one little weed. I imagine that's how I must appear when lost in a book. 

The tree is massive around her. Enclosing her with its ample limbs. Embracing her close to it's wooden chest. 

She's so small, Gods help her... So small. 

"What have you got there?" I call out as I walk up to her. 

She jumps a little, startled. But I watch as her eyes light up when she sees me. 

"You scared me," she giggles, starting to get up. 

I motion her to stay put and perch myself on one of the more raised roots. We're encased in green and brown and gold. 

On the floor, right before me, Penny sits and holds up the flower and asks me to look. 

"Very pretty." I resist the urge to reach out and tuck a tendril of brown hair behind her ear. 

Penny smiles. She opens her mouth as if to say something but perhaps thinks better of it. She blushes and turns her eyes to the flower again. 

"The flower too," I add, unable to help the corner of my mouth tilting up. 

Penny snaps her head up and blushes even more if possible. 

Gods, who'd have thought I'd make a pretty girl blush like this? 

There's always a voice that says she's lying but even that part of me knows Penny would never. 

"I made this dress," she says, gently running her hands over the pale pink fabric. It's lined with light yellow flowers. 

I smile in what I hope is an admiring manner. "Very nice." 

"I'm also learning how to embroider," she adds. "I have been practising my words and sums too." 

I'm not sure why she's telling me all this. "Good for you, Penny," I manage out. "How did the interest in sewing come about?" I ask when I can no longer keep shut. 

Penny tugs at the dress and blushes down more. It's starting to scare me. 

She wants more from me, I know. She wants my love and my trust. She wants to share my happiness and sorrow. And my bed. 

I can't have this conversation again. Can't bear to refuse her another time. I'm running out of reasons other than fear. 

I have no other reasons than fear. 

"I thought you might approve of it. It's what high born ladies do, is it not?" 

She might as well have dunked me in a bucketful of cold water. 

"Some ladies do enjoy dressmaking." Does she think it's what's holding me back? That she doesn't act highborn enough? It couldn't be further from the truth, if that's the case. I don't know what to tell her. 

I get a small smile as a reply. All nerves, no teeth.

Her hands are cold, I can tell by the way she rubs them together and traps them between her thighs. 

"Is something the matter, Penny?" 

She startles, perhaps by the directness of the question but I've no patience to dance around anymore.

"No," she lies. "Nothing." 

I suppress a sigh. Nothing to be gained by digging and much to lose. 

"Tyrion," she says. "I heard there might be a tourney in honour of Queen Daenerys' nameday. Is that true?" 

"It is. She feels the people have suffered enough. Wants to give them something to look forward to." 

"Will it be grand? Will knights come from all over the realm?" Her excitement seems to travel through the roots and ground so I can feel it in me. 

"Depends on how much coin I can arrange in time. The knights have only just reached home. I doubt they will want to leave soon. We have knights a plenty here." 

"Can I come watch? I'll be with the handmaidens or with the other small fo--" 

"Don't be absurd, Penny." I never snap at her but what kind of question is that? 

Her face falls and I feel like ice drops in my stomach. "You'll be by my side in the balcony near the royal box. You won't be by the small folk." 

Clouds seem to clear from her brows as she looks up at me. "Really? But I'm not a highborn," she says. 

"I don't care. Neither does Daenerys." 

"But…" she halts, and worries her lip with her teeth. "But I'm not -- we're not -- you know." 

"Do I?" I ask, raising a brow. Feigning innocence. 

She almost huffs in frustration. "What would we say if anyone asks why I'm sitting by your side? We are not married. They might think the wrong thing about me -- about us." 

"Let them think what they will. What effect does it have on the truth?" 

"None on the truth. But it does on my future." 

_This is new_. "What do you mean?" 

Penny puts the flower away. She clasps her hands in her lap and turns to me. I throw away the blade of grass I'd been idoly bending and mirror her. 

"You've given me a good life, Lord Tyrion."

Already, I taste bile. _Lord_ Tyrion? What's next? A vat of vitriol down my throat? 

"And I am grateful for that. You've been kinder to me than anyone else I have ever met --" 

"Speak plainly." My voice is foreign even to me. Its steel and fire. Lightbringer I'll thrust in her heart. 

She seems… afraid? Penny's lip trembles and she swallows before continuing. "I would like to have a family one day. A husband, children, a house of my own. And now that things have calmed down, I feel like --" 

"You'll find your knight at Daenerys' tourney, huh?"

"No!" She raises her arms, palms forward in surrender. "I don't have any hopes like that. I only don't want anyone to think that I am --" she's finding a nice word for 'your whore.' I let her take her time. 

"--that I our relationship is of a manner that is improper," she finishes. 

"Why do you care, Penny? You can't control anyone's thoughts." The rage bubbles inside me and I shoot up from my spot.

"I care because if they do then I might never find a husband. No one would want to marry me if they think I'm a wanton woman!" She stands too, fists by her sides, nearly raised on her toes. 

"Penny, you are a mummer. They already think that," I tell her. Perhaps that's too harsh, but she might as well know.

She looks like I slapped her across the face. "I've never kissed a boy before," she had told me the first time she kissed me on that boat. I've been with her nearly every moment after that and I know she hasn't kissed anyone else since. 

Hasn't known a man or woman. 

I know, but _they_ won't. 

"I better get going," she says and stands. I nod. With a small courtesy, she leaves, her hair bouncing behind her. I watch till she's out of sight. 

I want to run up to her and catch her. I want to turn her around, dig my fingers into her shoulders. Hold her tight and scream. 

_How do I tell you that I am tired? How do I tell you that I cannot have you because I don't want to lose you? I don't want to take too much; that which I cannot return._

_Cannot wake up next to you each day wondering if today is the day you hate me. Or if that day was yesterday._

_Everytime I look outside the window in my high chamber, you think I'm watching the sea, but all I see is the ground leagues below. And a way out._

_I cannot burden you with my thoughts so I keep them to myself. I cannot trust you with my heart so I leave you cold._

_Don't ask me again, my mind will not change. Don't ask me again, I have nothing left._

_I could marry her_ , the thought blooms anew in my mind. It's one I've had and rejected countless times. 

It's the Could that keeps me hooked. 

_'Could'_ that keeps me breathing.


End file.
